


The Future Is Ours To See

by smirkovskiy (orphan_account)



Category: Dancing with the Stars (US) RPF
Genre: Crushes, F/M, Gen, Gen With Feelings, Implied Feelings, Light Angst, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 00:38:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1760913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/smirkovskiy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Later that night, after the bright lights have dimmed and the music’s long stopped playing, Zendaya sits alone in her trailer, in front of her mirror.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Future Is Ours To See

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not tagging this as underage, but if the thought of a sixteen year old crushing on a twenty-seven year old weirds you out, click the back button now.
> 
> Still trying to figure out their voices. I fired this off pretty quickly so this could be somewhat inaccurate.
> 
> Title from "Baby, Hold On," by Eddie Money because lol.

Later that night, after the bright lights have dimmed and the music’s long stopped playing, Zendaya sits alone in her trailer, in front of her mirror. Her parents are—somewhere, maybe on a late-night grocery run. After they’d taken Grandma to the airport, they told her they were stepping out to pick up something to eat, they wouldn’t be long, but she hadn’t really been paying attention. She still feels like she’s walking around in a daze, drifting in a haze of complicated emotions she doesn’t have a proper name for.  
  
The performance wasn’t perfect; in fact, it was far from it, though Val didn’t seem too upset about it. Zendaya thinks maybe he was more upset on her behalf than at her for messing up the end of their dance with her stupid dress.  
  
Zendaya’s still wearing that damn dress; she hadn’t bothered to change before slipping away for her trailer. She sighs and picks up a makeup sponge. As imperfect as the night had been, she almost doesn’t want it to end. She kind of _likes_ the strange, indescribable feelings that swell in her chest as she uncaps her makeup remover.  
  
When she glances at her reflection in the mirror, she sees for the first time how weary and plain _exhausted_ she looks. Her eyeshadow is smudged, giving her a pale, washed out look under the lights. Zendaya drops the sponge on the vanity and holds her head in her hands. This has definitely been a tough week and she knows it’s only going to get even tougher from hereon out.  
  
There’s a sharp rap on her door and then a brief pause, as if the person on the other end is waiting for her to respond. When Zendaya doesn’t reply, they knock again. It’s obviously not her parents, they’d just let themselves in because they have a key and it’s not like she has any privacy anyway.  
  
Zendaya gets up, gathering the skirts of her crinkly, sparkly prom dress, and crosses to the door in a few long strides. She grasps the cool metal handle and tugs the door open to find Val waiting for her, still in his tux. The night air is somewhat cool and damp on her bare arms, and an involuntary shiver runs down her spine.  
  
When she meets Val’s gaze, she realizes he looks as exhausted as she feels. Val sags back against the metal railing that leads up to her trailer door and slight, tired smile graces his lips when he sees her.  
  
“Val? What’s going on?” Zendaya asks, worry clutching at her chest just a little bit. He never came around her trailer when her mom and dad weren’t around and he had to have noticed their car was missing from the parking space out front.  
  
Val offers her another small smile that still manages to be warm and reassuring and genuine at the same time, and Zendaya feels the tightness in her chest fall away. “Nothing, just wanted to see if you were okay. I know tonight was real emotional for you and—”  
  
“I’m fine,” Zendaya insists firmly, sure to smile back. “Thanks, though. For checking on me.”  
  
“Anytime...” Val trails off, scrutinizes her like a detective looking for clues. “You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”  
  
Zendaya waves a hand dismissively at him. “Like I said, I’m—”  
  
This time it’s Val’s turn to cut her short. “Hey, c’mere.” He extends a hand to her as he steps back to make room for her on the steps outside her trailer.  
  
Zendaya takes his hand in hers and lets him lead her out. “Okay?”  
  
Val leads her down the steps slowly, his fingers still wrapped loosely around her hand, until dirt and asphalt crunch under her heels. Zendaya looks at him in question, but he just crooks a half-smile at her and wraps his hands around her waist. Zendaya’s hands slide onto his shoulders as if they’re acting on their own, and Val’s smile widens.  
  
“I thought you were very good tonight,” he says, swaying with her a little bit.  
  
It’s a little hard for her to dance with him without the music to accompany them, but she makes do.  Val leads and she follows.  
  
“Val, I—”  
  
“No,” Val says firmly, giving her a squeeze. “You were fine.”  
  
Well, that settles _that_.  
  
He lets go of her waist to clasp her hand in his, high overhead, and she feels him lead her into a spin, her skirts swirling around her. She closes her eyes and tips her head back, laughing, fingers loosely linked with Val’s. She wishes she could see herself from someone else’s point of view right now. She probably looks like a princess with the skirt of her pretty prom dress billowing around her, and Val holding onto her like her very own Prince Charming.  
  
Val puts his hands on her hips, steadying her, and Zendaya opens her eyes. He’s smiling at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners and his teeth showing. Zendaya laughs, and she won’t even pretend that her heart doesn’t leap in her chest when Val’s smile widens at the sound.  
  
The collar of his white dress shirt is open, exposing a triangle of pale skin under his chin. Zendaya reaches out, her hand acting like it has a mind of its own again, and pulls on his shirt collar, straightening it a little bit and brushing the shoulder of his tuxedo jacket off. Val glances down at her hand on his shoulder, another little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.  
  
“Hm?” He looks at her, raising his eyebrows at her in question.  
  
“Nothing. You just—you had something on your jacket,” Zendaya stammers, jerking her hand back. She feels her cheeks flush and she wishes she could turn on her heel and run away, but then she’d just be proving to everyone—all the doubters and haters—that she really was just a kid.  
  
Val leans in, pulling her against his chest in a hug before she knows what hit her. She feels his hand cup the back of her head, fingers curling gently in her hair.  
  
“I’m very proud of you,” he says softly, breath curling against her cheek, as he gives her a gentle squeeze.  
  
Val finally lets her go and steps back, fingers brushing so lightly against her bare skin she thinks she might have imagined the contact. Zendaya shivers and rubs her hands over the goosebumps that run up and down her arms. Val’s expression softens, the corners of his mouth curling up ever so slightly.  
  
Zendaya reaches out, linking her fingers with his, and it’s not like they haven’t held hands before—Val is pretty touchy, after all, always grabbing her hand or fixing her posture or pulling her into affectionate hugs or even kissing her on the cheek and temple—but it feels like _more_.  
  
Maybe it’s all just in her head (it _must_ all just be in her head). Maybe she’s imagining that his breath hitches just a little bit when she slides her fingers between his.  
  
She has to be imagining things. He’s so much older than her, and he’s seen so many more things, been to so many more places. He’s so—so _worldly_ , and it’s not like she’s never gone anywhere or done anything in her life, as short as it is, but he’s got so much more experience in life than her that there’s no earthly reason he should be in awe of her.  
  
Zendaya knows it’s silly of her to think that she might take his breath away, even for just a couple seconds. Even while she still looks like a princess, albeit a very tired one.  
  
Val breaks eye contact first, glancing down to fuss with the sleeve of his shirt, so Zendaya sighs and turns to head back to her trailer.  Warm, dry fingers catch around her bare wrist and she turns; Val tugs her back in place, gently.  
  
“Yeah?” Zendaya tries not to betray the butterflies currently ravaging her stomach.  
  
“Don’t beat yourself up too much, Zendaya,” he says. Her name sounds different on his tongue now, softer almost.  “I know, I know, probably sounds kinda funny coming from me, but...  I’m serious.  I know you can’t really see it right now, ’cause you’re still—” Val lets go of her wrist to gesture to his heart “—kinda emotional and stuff, but you’ll see.  You’ll see I’m right.”  
  
A hundred different, complicated emotions swell in her chest, batter against her heart and her ribcage for dominance.  She pushes them back in their box and clamps the lid down.  “I know,” she echoes, offering Val a smile she hopes is halfway convincing.   Deep down inside, she knows Val is right.  When the dust settles, she’ll be proud of her performance, even if it was imperfect.  
  
Val wraps an arm around her shoulders and tugs her against his chest.  Zendaya feels his lips press against her hair, feels his big hand squeezing on her bare shoulder, pulling her in tight.  She closes her eyes, lets a hand rest on his chest, and breathes in the thick scent of his cologne as he lingers at her temple, brushes his lips against the shell of her ear.  
  
The sound of tires kicking up gravel loosens Val’s arm from around her shoulders, but Zendaya likes to think if her parents hadn’t pulled up just then Val might have never let go.  Val’s hand finds her bare shoulder one last time, squeezing, before he slips away.  
  
The engine shudders off and the car doors open.  Her parents get out, toting bags of groceries and big happy smiles.  Zendaya skips across the asphalt to help them, feeling lighter, happier than she has in weeks.  

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a complete work of fiction and does not necessarily reflect reality. This story is for entertainment purposes only. If you found this while googling for yourself, click the back button now.


End file.
